I Will Kill This Show for You

Don't worry, baby.

I will kill this show for you

I will take that role
That you want so much
And I will shove you into it
Like an elephant into a Victorian corset

I will ignore
Author intent
Previous incarnations of the show
And good old-fashioned common sense

And I will give you that role

I will choose not to notice
That you look totally wrong for the part
I will turn a blind eye to the fact
That you can't sing it, not even a little bit
Not even a third of it

I will be completely oblivious
When taking into consideration
The very real possibility
That no other person walking this earth
Perhaps in the history of theater
Would have given you this role

I'll act like that's a HUGE surprise to me
When the critics
And the audiences
And your fellow actors
All rip you apart

I'll kill the show for you
And then I'll act downright shocked
When everyone tells me
That's what happened

And let me tell you something, baby
That'll be one hell of a performance

I'm Not Impressed

Okay, this is where he makes the caged lion disappear.

Are you ready?

Here it goes.

. . . . .

Ooooohhhhhhh it's gone

Shocker

Nobody says 'Um, it was in a cage. It would have been a lot cooler if an uncaged lion disappeared because then it could move and stuff and not just fall down a trap door--'

Oops, did I say that out loud?

I guess I'm not winning the assistant award today.

But yeah--

Caged lion disappears.

Everybody claps.

That's how you know people are stupid.

After this, he makes doves come out of flower pots.

As if doves can't fit in flower pots. It's not like he makes them come out of matchboxes.

You know what? I bet a dove could even fit in a matchbox if you wanted it to. They have small bones, right?

He's looking over at me. That means the doves don't want to come out of the flowerpots. Watch, this'll be my fault. Because I didn't train them right. Like it takes so much training to make a dove want to come out of a flower pot.

They either want to, or they don't. And if they don't want to, they don't. It's not like humans where sometimes you HAVE to do things you don't want to do, or work jobs you don't like, or clench your teeth and smile while a few hundred dumbasses stand up and clap because your boss was under water for ten minutes and didn't drown.

You know what? I can stay under water for ten minutes. It's not that hard.

One day, I'm going to quit. I'm going to quit and open a diner outside Reno. That's my dream.

I don't want magic anymore. Magic's just what they give you when they don't want you to notice the bullshit.

Hang on, I have to go help him get the doves out--the whole time looking inconspicuous--THAT should be fun.

They say he's the best act in Vegas.

Yeah, well...

I'm not impressed.

He Got Me

So there I was
Resisting
Just resisting away
Planning to resist forever

And finally, I thought--

Why?

Why am I resisting?

Here's this guy
Here's this guy who is madly in love with me
Here's this guy who is literally crazy about me

Like, loving me, drove him crazy

And here I am
Loving you
And getting nowhere with that
As you're well aware of

And why?

You know?

Why?

Because some messed up portion of my brain
Has completely given itself over
To the idea of forbidden fruit?

That's insane

That's totally insane

And I bought into it

I rationalized chasing you
You, the perceived to be 'diamond in the rough'
Which you're really not
While a perfectly good guy
Chased after me

And I resisted

Do you ever think maybe we need to just think about our brains
The way we think about computers?

Maybe we need to reprogram them

If our computers brought up Solitaire
Every time we wanted to go online
We'd take them in to be repaired

But our minds make us love idiots
When we want to love somebody good for us
And we tell ourselves that's normal

It's sooo not normal

And it's such a recent thing, you know?

Like, it used to be
That you married someone
Who was good to you

You didn't think about passion and love
Because, I mean, we're all going to be old one day
You know?

We're going to be really old
And none of us are going to look good
And we're not going to have sex...much
And all our bad habits are going to ferment
So that they're ten times as worse
As they were when we were young

And here we are now
Making decisions
Based on all these things
That will not be a factor
In a mere fifty years

Isn't that ridiculous?

I just think it's so ridiculous

So I chose him

Yup, he got me
He totally got me

I had a flat tire
And he showed up
And waited with me
Until the tow truck came
And I was like--

You got me

Because it needs to be that simple
If it's not that simple
It needs to be

You go with the guy
Who shows up

Being there is like ninety-nine percent of love for me now
And you were never there

You were all these amazing things
But you were never there
So what's the point?

It would be like owning a mansion in Mozambique
I mean, it's great that I own a mansion
But if I can't ever go to Mozambique
If I can't even get a passport to go there
And if Mozambique is clearly in a state of civil unrest
Because it won't stop sleeping with giant whores

Then what's the point, you know?

So he got me
And I'm glad
I'm really glad he got me

I gave up

And you know what?
It's amazing

It's really amazing
How I didn't give anything up
I got so much more
Than I ever thought I would

And they call this
A compromise

Chris Can't Leave

On Monday, she was in bed
She didn't get out of bed
And neither did he

He was in his own bed
Two states away
A guest bed
That his friend had made up for him
When he called saying he had left her

Chris had left April
Wasn't that something?

That was on Friday
And the weekend had been a barrage
Of phone calls and text messages
Pleading and begging
Crying voicemails
And more phone calls
This time from friends
Demanding that he go back

How dare he leave like that?
How dare he?

He had figured out a long time ago
That everybody would side with April
How could you not?

She was the sweetest girl alive
But he didn't love her
So he left

Then on Monday night, he fell asleep
For the first time
Felt tired
Not just exhausted
But just a normal tired
And it felt good
To just be tired
Just because of the day
And not anything else

He woke up in bed with her
Feeling very confused
Not being able to speak
Or move, really

He didn't feel a body
Or a mind
He just felt there
He felt very much there

There was April
Laying in bed
The covers pulled up to her eyes
Which were blood-shot
And puffy

He felt secure for some reason
He felt warm and secure
But cold at the same time
And very much alone

He felt an overpowering loneliness
And confusion
Just this endless confusion
That seemed to wallpaper the room

This room seemed sinister
But he couldn't leave it
He had no will to leave it
And he was terrified to turn even a little bit right
Because that's where the mirror was
And he really didn't want to look in the mirror

He lay there for hours
Not feeling hungry
Not feeling thirsty
Not feeling anything
But a dry hot stone
Being placed in the center of chest

Making him gasp
When he could breathe fine
Making him grab for air
When he was merely laying in bed
A normal activity
That had become a fight
A fight to live
A fight to not close your eyes
And disappear

This was his Monday night

He woke on Tuesday
Telling himself it was a dream
But he picked up his phone anyway
And called April

She picked up immediately
And immediately he felt guilty

Why had he called her?
He said he wasn't going to call
He shouldn't have called
He didn't have to call
It wasn't his job to call

Two years is a long time
But it's over, and when it's over
You're supposed to just go
Nobody says you have to call

'Chris?'
'Hi.'
'Hi.'
'Are you okay?'
'Are you kidding?'
'I mean--where are you?'
'Honestly?'
'Yes.'
'I'm in bed.'
'Oh.'
'I've been here for hours.'
'That's...I'm sorry.'
'It feels like there's a--this--'
'Like you're underwater? Like it's slow? Like it's all really slow?'
'Yeah. How did you know?'
'Uh--'
'You feel that way, too? Don't you?'

Shit

He did NOT feel that way
But he had FELT that way
In the dream
Only in the dream

'I gotta go.'
'Please, can we talk?'
'I'm sorry, April, I can't.'
'I miss you so much.'
'You need to get out of bed.'
'I can't.'
'April, get out of bed.'

Then he did what he shouldn't have done

'If you get out of bed, I'll call tomorrow.'

Silence

'Okay'

Want to hear something strange?

He felt like if she didn't get out of bed
He'd be back there tomorrow night
Right there with her

. . . . .

On Tuesday, he was a little anxious
He did not want to get into bed
After feeling like he'd been in bed
While completely awake
The entire night before

So instead, he sat up and watched tv
And ended up falling asleep
While the sounds of Wheel of Fortune
Became the soundtrack
For April's Tuesday

He was standing next to her
At the airport
At the ticket counter
Feeling incredibly annoyed

Every sound seemed to be a buzz
Every sound that wasn't Pat Sajak

Wasn't it bad enough that he had to live in April's day
Without his boring night creeping into it as well?

And why was he so irritated?

Every time someone talked to April
It was like mosquitoes attacking his skin
From all sides

The notion of eternity expanded
As the line of angry people
Never seemed to end

Was this what April's job was like?
How was it she always managed to come home happy
Whereas he had a job he loved
And still found it difficult to smile
When he walked through the door
And found her languishing in the kitchen
Staring at a casserole pan
As if she could just make something appear

But smiling
Always smiling

Smiling now felt like grating your own face
Up against a barbed wire fence
But smiling was what you had to do
So April was doing it
And Chris was doing it
And the only thing that made him feel like
He wasn't going to explode
Inside the life of April
Was the thought of a phone call
Coming in the near future

That something so small
Could keep him holding on
In a sea of stupidity
Where a woman was actually claiming
That she should be able to get to Taiwan
In under six hours
Was absolutely astounding to Chris

He woke up to the morning news
His least favorite thing to wake up to
And he instinctively reached for the phone
To call April and see if she was okay

The thought of her doing that job
Day after day after day
With no virtual end in sight
And now alone on top of it
Convinced him that she was going to try and harm herself
In the very near future

But then he put down the phone
He couldn't call this early in the morning
It would make him look like he wanted to get back together
And he did NOT want to get back together
He just wanted to make sure April was okay

There was a compromise: He would text her

'You okay?'
'...Yes'

She even wrote out the ellipses

He was becoming the one with the 'problem' now
Before long she was going to be totally fine
And he would be the insane one who couldn't let go

Would that be a problem?

I mean, if she was fine
And he was fine
Wouldn't that be the ideal situation?

He decided that the only way for them to be 'fine'
Would be if they were both in control and acting mature
And intelligently communicating with each other

'You're not going to kill yourself, are you?'
'I wasn't planning on it.'
'Good'
'Is this what counts as a call?'
'I guess it could?'
'Okay then'

Good--not going to kill herself
And the call for the day is completed
Maybe this would be a good day

He'd taken sick time at work
And he wanted to suggest that April do the same
She really shouldn't be doing that job
In any state of depression

'April?'
'I thought you were all set for today?'
'I was--but I realized something--'
'That you've made a terrible mistake?'
'No, I haven't realized that.'
'Okay.'
'You should go on a vacation.'
'A vacation?'
'Yeah'
'By myself?'
'Why not?'
'Because sad people do that.'
'Aren't you sad?'
'I meant sad like pathetic.'
'Oh...'
'Is that the reason you called?'
'Yeah, pretty much'
'Well...thanks'

He wanted her to go somewhere nice
In case he wound up stuck with her again

God, that sounded awful

Not stuck with her
But with her life
With those feelings
With those unbearable feelings

If he was going to have to live in that place
Maybe he could at least be on a beach

But what if there were attractive men on that beach?
What if there half-naked men on the beach
That would want to get April into bed?

Chris wouldn't want to be there for that

He needed to end this
He needed to end these nightly...mares

Something had to be done

. . . . .

On Wednesday, he checked into a hotel
He just couldn't chance it
He couldn't chance going back to that ticket counter
And hearing a four-hundred pound man ask April
To explain to him
Why he couldn't just ride in the cockpit
Rather than buy two seats

It was a lovely hotel
And Chris was happy to be there
It made him feel like he was vacation
Maybe that's why he had suggested a trip to April
Maybe he needed to be suggesting it to himself

So he checked into the hotel
And got into the hotel room bed
And passed out immediately

He woke up in hell

Otherwise known as Nancy's house
Nancy is April's best friend
Chris calls her Cyclops
Because she has a weird skin discoloration on her forehead
That looks like an eye

Not only was Cyclops present
At what appeared to be a 'girl's night'
But Funky Flora who always smelled like potato chips
And Cece the STD were also there

'He was ugly as shit'

And they were talking about him

'He was so damn ugly'

April was defending him
And he felt defensive
Instantly defensive
He didn't want to hear anyone talking badly about himself
Which he supposed was normal
But somehow it felt different
He felt protective of himself
And stupid for feeling protective at the same time

'Looked like a kitchen sink'
'Cece--'
'Full of dirty dishes'
'That's enough'

That's when Nancy started handing out the wine

'He walked out because he knows you can do better'

She can't do better
Chris was sure she wouldn't do better
He was amazing
He was just confused
He was coming back!

Wait, no, he wasn't coming back

What was she thinking?
And why he was thinking it?

Oh God, this was awful

She had moved past depression
Into unsupported hope
It felt wonderful
Like giving in to a bowl of ice cream
When you really need to be chewing on celery sticks

Why was she hopeful?

It was wonderful
But WHY?

'You know what I think?'

That you need to shower, you smelly bitch?

'Flora, I know you didn't like him'
'It's not that I didn't like him. I just knew he would leave.'

No she didn't!
He didn't even know he was going to leave
How did Funky Flora know?

'He had that look in his eyes. Like he was holding back something.'

He was holding back gagging
Because every time Flora was around
It was like swimming in rotten fruit

'I think you're better off.'

And here comes Cyclops
Bringing up the rear
Of the Bitch Race

'If he doesn't see how wonderful you are, then screw him.'
'Screw him.'
'SCREW...HIM.'

They toasted their glasses to this
To the notion of screwing Chris

How lovely of them
To get their heart-broken friend
Drunk and dwelling

'I just miss him, you know?'

He felt the loneliness well back up inside him
How quickly hope gave way to that
How come that seemed to push through
No matter how much else you put on top of it?

'We understand, honey.'
'But it'll get better.'
'Time heals, April. It does'

The Hallmark Whores, listen to them

'It's just that there's so much...There's so much that could happen, that might make it better...but if he'd just come back...it would all be better right away. So it's hard to think about the longer road, you know? It's hard to think about how long that road is compared to if he just came back...It's hard.'

It felt hard
Hard felt like the right word
But like a word
That had gained so much more weight
More weight than he knew was possible
For a word to retain

He woke up in the hotel room
With the maid knocking on the door

He couldn't figure out why
But he didn't want to get out of bed

He just let the maid knock
And waited
Until she went away

. . . . .

'Your friends hate me'

It was the daily phone call

'Do you blame them?'
'Yes. There's no reason to hate me.'
'You broke my heart.'
'Relationships don't work out.'
'Yes, when one person is an asshole with severe psychological problems, they do tend to end rather prematurely.'

Wow, she was growing a spine
That was fast

'I'm sorry you feel that way.'
'I doubt you're sorry about anything.'
'I can't force myself to feel something, April.'
'And you don't worry about that?'
'No, I mean, what can I do?'
'You have deeply hurt someone you've supposedly loved for a very long time and you don't feel anything about that. And that doesn't--worry you?'
'Well...I can't force myself to worry now either, can I?'
'You're really an idiot.'

And for the first time
She hung up on him

And he thought
Maybe I am an idiot
And then he started to worry

. . . . .

He showed up at his mother's house
That Thursday morning
But she wouldn't talk to him
Because she loved April
And wouldn't listen to reason

Everybody loved April
Everybody loved April but him

Did that make him a bad guy?

Maybe he was the one person
Who couldn't love April

Maybe that was his place in the world

It didn't matter

He was not going to go to sleep tonight
He just had to go through one night of not sleeping
And it would break this ridiculous cycle
And end this Twilight Zone episode
Directed by Nora Ephron

His childhood bed was smaller than he remembered
Which he supposed was normal

But he found it odd
That his mother had kept the Ghostbusters bedspread on it

He was going to stay up
And it was going to be easy
Because this bed was incredibly uncomfortable
And because the closet door could never fully close
Which still scared the shit out of him
And because he could hear his mother crying in the next room
Because she wanted him to get back together with April
Because she wanted grandkids within the year

So he'd have no problem staying up
No problem at all

And he did
He did manage to stay up

He saw the sunlight come through the morning curtain
And heard his mother's alarm clock go off
And heard birds chirping outside

But then the closet door opened
And he was propelled into some empowering song
That involved being over some guy
And him needing to let the door hit him on the way out
And maybe Beyonce was singing it
And maybe Gloria Gaynor was singing it
And maybe he was going to die now
Because this felt like death

He saw his possessions flying through the air
Landing inside several nearly-filled garbage bags
And he started to recall that he had left far too many things
At the old apartment
Assuming that once April was feeling better about the break-up

(Or when she went to work and he time to sneak in with nobody noticing)

He could go in and reclaim his stuff

Apparently, this was not going to happen

AND HE FELT GREAT ABOUT IT!

He saw his golf clubs go inside the trash

GOOD!

He HATED those golf clubs!
He golfed too much!

He gave up precious Sunday afternoons
That could have been spent in bed cuddling with April
Just so he could GOLF!

Sometimes he golfed in the RAIN
Did THAT make any sense?

He saw his Scarface poster go into the garbage

GOOD!

It was a stupid movie poster
And it did not belong on a wall
As if it were art

There went every photo of him and his friends
That had ever been taken--EVER

GOOD!

His friends were morons
They encouraged him to dump April
And that was stupid
Because she was wonderful

Why did he listen to them?

They're big fat slobs
Who still think burping the Star-Spangled Banner
Is an actual skill

GOOD
GOOD
GOOD

Now everything was in the garbage
Which was where he belonged
He belonged in the garbage
With everything that had any association with him

Good for April!

He felt like dancing around
To Chaka Khan
And singing into a hair dryer!

SOMEBODY GET ME A HAIR DRYER!

That was when the closet door shut
And his bedroom door opened
And Chris' mother walked in
To find her son
Crying

Really, really, really crying

Like, hardcore

'Chris, what's wrong?'
'I'm...a...fool.'

Chris' mother crossed her arms

'Honey, I know that. I'm your mother.'

. . . . .

Friday he went back to work
Why not?
Why not work?
Why not at least attempt to be productive?

The day was bad
But not as bad as the airport day had been

Or the day in bed
Or the day with April's friends
Or last night

When he finally realized that April was a great person
And that he had let her go

And he didn't want her back
But he knew that he shouldn't have let her go
The way he did

She deserved better than that

He picked up the phone to call her
But he couldn't think of what to say

What do you say?

Honestly, what do you say?

'I'm sorry'?
'I messed up'?
'I'm almost convinced that I'm mentally unsound?'

He was more than worried now
He was terrified

How could he not feel anything?

Even now, after admitting that he was a total fuck-up
He still couldn't register wanting April back
He didn't want her back because he didn't love her
But the bigger worry was--

Could he love anybody?

But how did you say that?
How does anyone say that
And not sound like Hugh Grant
In the first half hour
Of a really bad romantic comedy?

Why couldn't he be Hugh Grant
In the LAST half hour
Of a really bad romantic comedy
When he was a redeemed man
And everyone loved him?

Nobody loves Beginner Hugh Grant
And that's who he was
He was Intro to Hugh Grant
The class you rewind past
Because he's such a jerk
And because the jokes aren't as good
Without the charm behind them

He sat for hours staring at the phone
And then it rang...

. . . . .

'Hi Chris'
'April?'
'That's right'
'Is this a real phone call?'
'No, this is your last hallucination.'
'Really? No more?'
'No more, Chris.'
'That's exciting!'
'I'm glad you're happy about it.'
'At least I have something to be happy about.'
'Not so thrilled with being single anymore?'
'It's not that I wanted to be single. I just...'
'You just what?'

Suddenly he saw parchment
He saw a quill
With a feather

He saw a letter being written

Dear April,

I felt like I was faking it. Like I was faking it all. My whole life. A fraud. Because I hated every part of it and because you loved it and it felt wrong to let you love it knowing it wasn't true. Knowing it was all just one big phony smile.

You deserved a real smile and Sunday cuddling and a big hug everyday after work. A man who would appreciate those awful, awful casseroles. A good guy.

I'm not a good guy, April. I tell myself that I am because if I don't tell myself that, how do you...anything? You know?

How do you get out of bed?
How do you go to work?
How do you keep going?

If you're an asshole, what do you do? Especially if you don't know how to stop being an asshole and your asshole-ness starts running through to other parts of your life and other people who are sweet and just want to be with you--what do you do about that?

I left.

I know you hate me for it, and that you'd have preferred it if we fought for this relationship with one lovely person and one horrible asshole who may never be anything else, but the truth is, it was better to just let it go.

It's better that I left.

I think you're starting to get that

'Yes, Chris, I am.'
'So you'll be okay?'
'Do you care if I'm okay?'
'Yeah, I really do.'
'I'll be okay, Chris.'
'Good.'
'Will you be okay?'
'Probably not, no.'
'I think you will be.'
'Do you have any idea when?'
'Why would I?'
'You're a hallucination--aren't you omnipotent?'
'No, because I'm your hallucination, and you know virtually nothing.'
'Well, that makes sense.'

There was a silence
He wondered if he had lost service
But then he remembered
That this was all in his head

So he had probably lost service
A long time ago

'I'll miss you, Chris.'
'I'll miss you, too.'
'You want to end this on a good note?'
'Is that possible?'
'In real life? No. But this way, we can have a nice-little-sort-of happy ending.'
'Go for it.'
'Remember when we went ice skating?'
'That was our seventh date.'
'You remember that?'
'I remember odd things.'
'Clearly. Anyway, when we went ice skating, you stayed with me the whole time.'
'That's what you do on a date.'
'But I was the worst ice skater ever. I don't even think we made it once around the rink.'
'It was cute. You almost fell--constantly. You were in a constant state of almost falling.'
'But you stayed right by my side. You hung in there with me even though I didn't know what I was doing, and I was terrible at what I was doing, and I messed up over and over again.'
'Yeah, well...'
'I would have done that for you, Chris. I really would have.'

Dear April,

I get it.

Sincerely,
Chris

'April--?'
'Yeah?'
'We both would have fallen if you'd have stayed by my side.'
'Yeah, maybe you're right. But I was willing to try.'
'So that's our happy ending?'
'The happy ending is that somewhere inside you is a very patient, caring, supportive man. He's trapped inside a moronic fathead, but he's there. He really is.'
'So I can hope?'
'Chris, all you can do is hope.'

. . . . .

He was at their door
Looking at their mailbox

Those two names
One on top of the other

And he thought...

She'll change the mailbox

That'll be what will happen

There will be changes

Until there are changes
It hasn't really happened

Until the mailbox is changed
Until his photos are detagged
Until new photos are posted
With new guys
At parties thrown by friends
He doesn't even know...

Until those things happen
He's still sort of here

He thinks about dropping the note
Inside the mailbox

Dear April,

I'm here if you need me, always.

Chris

But he doesn't
Because she doesn't
She doesn't need to know that

She doesn't need to know anything
About him

There isn't anything
She doesn't already know

And he walks into the street
And he walks out of view
From their apartment window

And he's left
And he's there
And he's tired
And he's unsure

When the next time is
That he'll be able
To sleep

Claudia's Black Friday

So first I cut the power

Because most of those people
Forgot to bring glow sticks
Which is their problem

It's not my problem
It's THEIR problem

Then I did the tear gas
Because of those people
Thought nobody would think to bring tear gas this year
Which is their problem

It's THEIR problem

Once everybody was crying
And retching
And screaming for help

That's when I went in

First, I hit the toy department
Because that's Red Zone
And I like to do my Red Zone first

Might as well start the day with some blood on your hands
Because they're going to be bloody by the end of the day anyway

Now, they were selling Terrific Tina
For half off
And I knew right away
That they were only going to put up four Terrific Tina dolls
And that I had to have one of them

Do you know how many people in that store
Were there for a Terrific Tina doll?

A lot, that's how many
A LOT of people
All wanting Terrific Tina

But that Terrific little bitch was mine
Believe me, she was coming home with me

Soon as I grabbed for her
I felt a hand on the back of my head
Going to pull my hair

Which is fine
Because I was wearing my steak knife wig

Soon as you touch my head

BANG!

Steak knife to the hand

Don't ask me how it works
I don't care HOW
As long as it works
And it WORKED

Somebody missing a hand now?

That isn't my problem
That's THEIR problem

So I got Terrific Tina
And blood on my hands
And a lot of other places
And I head to bedding
Because I want some new pillows
And I want 'em HALF OFF

That's when I encounter a little problem
I like to call--

CHEAP BITCHES

Now me? I like a sale
I'm not CHEAP
I'm just taking advantage
Of a little Black Friday action

If I show you a twenty
Are you going to take it?
Hell yeah, you're going to take it

Are you going to punch me in the face and take it?
Of course you are!
How else are you going to get it?

But I'm not CHEAP
I am FRUGAL

But in the pillow aisle
That's where you're going to meet
The CHEAP BITCHES

In their Hazmat suits
Because though they're cheap
They're not stupid

They knew I was coming with tear gas
And steak knives and hand grenades
And a couple of rabid hamsters
Tucked away in Tupperware containers
In my purse, just waiting to go

They try grabbing some pillows
And running from me
Thinking maybe they'll get lucky
And I won't want THOSE pillows

Well guess what?

How do I know I don't want THOSE pillows
Unless I look at THOSE pillows?

Maybe I want the option
And if I want the option
And they took THOSE pillows
And I have to toss a hand grenade
Into the sheets aisle
To slow them down

Then that's not MY problem
That's THEIR problem

I like to finish my day

-- Where else? --

In hardware

Not because I need tools
Just because I like holding blunt objects
And making people nervous

I did pick up a glue gun though
Because in two weeks
I'm coming back to do my Christmas shopping
And I plan on being the only bitch in here
Who's not getting stuck
In aisle four

Thank

You

Leaving the City

I had to stop and look at it
One more time, just one more time
Didn't know I'd see it like this
Before I left

The whole city
Lit up and shining
Like a bakery
In a morning snow storm

Gonna be hard not to miss it
Never said I wasn't going to miss it

But I gotta leave it to other people
Other people who can love it
More than I can right now

Right now it's just a bunch of buildings
With windows
With nobody behind them
Except for strangers

Right now it's just a closed book
One I tried to read
And couldn't finish

And I know where she is
She's behind one of those windows
But I don't know which one anymore

It's going to suck the first time
I go to the store
And realize I don't have to remember
To buy her shampoo

It's going to suck to drive over the bridge
And not take the exit
To go see her

It's going to suck
Not to have anyone
To make the crazy monster face for

It's going to suck
Not seeing her cat anymore
Or her white furniture
That made me nervous
Or her, you know

Obviously, her

But I think if I go to different stores
If I have different places to go to
If I never have to drive
Over that particular bridge again
Maybe it'll be better, you know?

Maybe, maybe
You know?

I want to see if I can leave my sadness here
If I can tell it I'm going to the store
And then just not come back

See if it'll follow me
Or if it'll find me
Like how dogs find their owners

I wonder how loyal
My sadness is to me

I don't really have much to say to the city
To her, I could say a thousand things
I could read the phonebook to her
And still not say everything
I could let words trip out of my mouth
And pool around her

See if she could dog paddle in them
Back to a safer shore
In another man's arms

But to the city, I don't have much
Just a shoulder shrug and a 'Yeah...'
With an ellipses

You know?

Not even sure if I want to leave
I just know she's the city
And the city is her
And the windows all show her reflection
And the bridge is over her body
And the store only sells her diet soda
And her perfume
And her mascara

And I know I can't be a man here
I never was, I guess
I can't be the man I'd like to be
So it's either why be
Or why be here?

I don't know when I'll leave
But I know it's at least
What I can be doing

I can be leaving

Hey

Maybe it's what I've been doing
All along

Crazy in the Supermarket

Brandy!

Put down the frosted flakes
I am NOT buying you frosted flakes

Girl, the last thing you need
Is a sugar rush

Plus I think you get turned on
By that cartoon tiger
And that shit's messed up
And I'm not promoting it

Cindy, stop crying
That cashier doesn't like you
Because you like him

He's a cashier
He don't understand a woman
Wanting him for his job

He thinks that makes you desperate
And he's right, ain't he?

Go get yourself some Kleenex
Aisle Five

Tina

Tina

TINA

I know you're not trying to yell at me
In this supermarket, Tina

I will not be yelled at
Next to soy milk

I am not about to have that

Why do y'all have to be crazy in the supermarket?

Today I took you to three separate therapists
Then to the post office where there's plenty of therapists
And then to my mother's house
Where y'all and your crazy would have fit right in

But instead you wait
Until we get to the supermarket

Brandy, stop smelling the soup cans
Cindy, stop eyeing that deli man
Tina, do not act like you think that I care
About your yogurt

If you wanted yogurt
You should have brought money for it
My money is spent on my Double Stuf
And if I catch ya'll eating it
I'm going to double stuf y'all
Underneath the floorboards
Is that understood?

Why?

Why, God, tell me why

These bitches need to go crazy
In a supermarket

Why can't I just buy my Oreos
And check out
Without there being some problem?

Now I'm going to need to go to the cookie dough aisle
Just so I can make it through the week

Damn

BRANDY!

You are NOT on Supermarket Sweep
Now calm yourself DOWN!

Play to Lose

We've established that I'm your favorite game
We've figured out that the blame is on me
And I see that I should roll
And hope the dice stays nice
For the time being

You gotta play
You gotta take all your chances
I'm the game that you play to lose

You gotta juggle
And remain with your focus
But if you drop me
Then I'm here
To lose

We're just kids in a store with no candy
We're just practicing at being let down
We're not the talk of the town
Or the newest contraption

We're just losers
And we love to lose

I'm not the lover that you want to wake up to
I'm not the choice or the chosen one

I'm not the best or the brightest or nicest
I'm the game that you play to lose

You want to love me
But it's not in the cards
It's not the way
That the world works out

I'm not the plan
I'm not the man you'll wind up
I'm a game
That you play to lose

And if you think
That you're shocking me silly
That you're rocking my mind here
That you're breaking my heart
Or that I'm waiting around

Waiting's a game
That you're gonna lose

Advice to a Heart-Broken Sixteen-Year-Old

-- Why not be productive right? --

"Advice to a Heart-Broken Sixteen-Year-Old"

Dear Julie,

Greetings from London. I've been here so long, not only have I adopted the accent, I've started critiquing other people's accents.

People who are actually FROM London.

Needless to say, your Uncle Matt is still as socially adept as ever.

I got a horrifying phone call from your mother yesterday. It's unusual for me to hear my big sister cry, but she was crying.

At first, I thought your grandmother had finally agreed to be put into a home--but that wouldn't elicit crying from your mother, that would make her samba around her living room with a feather boa.

No, your mother was crying because her daughter was going through her first break-up.

She said you were up in your room, and she could hear you sobbing into your pillow.

Aren't mothers amazing? They can hear sobbing into a pillow through a closed door and one floor down. I can't even hear my alarm clock Monday morning when I set it on the pillow next to me and set the radio station to "Metal Madness."

So she was crying, and you were crying, and I started crying--of course, some of my crying had to do with the fact that your mother called in the middle of 'Beaches.' A good chunk of it was you though, and your new found heartbreak.

Instantly I sat down to write you this e-mail.

A letter might have been more meaningful, but my handwriting looks like a blind man trying to draw a turkey, so I settled on a more technological approach.

Now, there aren't a lot of things I'm an expert at. I'm admittedly relieved that your mother didn't call to tell me you were pregnant, because I probably would have jumped for joy at the thought of planning a baby shower, and that would have been the extent of my help with THAT.

Heartbreak, however, is something I can give you more than a few pointers on, my queen among nieces.

So here are some tips from your Uncle Matt on getting past this break-up. May they serve you as they have served me. Even the ones that didn't serve me might serve you, and regardless, all of them combined together to put me in a gorgeous flat in London--so why bother trying to separate the good from the bad anyway, right?

First off, talk shit about him. It may not be the mature thing to do, but it will make you feel really REALLY good. Talk about how stupid he is. Talk about what a bad kisser he was. Talk about how there was always a little too much saliva or about how he never opened his mouth enough so it was like trying to kiss a CPR doll. Talk only to your friends--the ones that he's not friends with, the ones who never liked him--that way you won't get yourself in trouble. But really let him have it when you talk to them. Don't hold anything back. A voice inside you will tell you that he was perfect and that it wants him back and that if you say anything nasty about him other than how crazy he's behaving he'll find out and you'll never get back together.

DON'T LISTEN.

That voice should be ignored at all costs, especially when it tells you to turn him into the one that got away while the dust from his shoes is still fresh on the welcome mat.

(Sorry, sometimes your Uncle gets carried away with his language. It's that Creative Writing degree desperately trying to be worth something.)

So yes, piece of advice number one: Talk shit about him. You can learn to forgive him, and be friends with him, and be mature LATER ON. For now, be a childish, whining, immature, trash-talking bitch. Uncle Matt gives you permission, and anybody who tells you otherwise should have shit talked about them as well.

When you run out of friends willing to listen to you--as you will, people have their limits after all--call me. I love talking shit. I never even met the guy, but I'm sure I can find something nasty to say about him.

Your mother says his name was Gray--like the color--that's a good half hour of shit-talking right there.

So call me--anytime.

Piece of advice number two: That voice that we touched upon in piece of advice number one--let me tell you what that voice is.

That voice is the most annoying girl at the party.

You're sixteen, so I'm sure you've been to your share of parties downtown at some loft owned by some older man who fulfills your many psychological needs that at this point are so deeply rooted you barely know they're there.

...Or maybe you just go to sleep-overs, like normal sixteen-year-olds.

To each his own.

No matter what party you go to, there's always that annoying girl who wasn't invited but found out about the party anyway because annoying people have GPS systems implanted in their brains that lead them to all the cool parties so they can try to ruin them.

The voice in your head is that girl. When that voice starts talking to you, treat it as you would treat that girl. Move far away from it as discreetly as possible.

I had a voice like yours when I went through my first break-up. It told me that it would be a good idea to shave my head and send my ex-boyfriend photos of me with small farm animals to remind him that I had a kind heart.

Believe me, if there is a Devil, and it's not Parker Posey, then it's that voice.

Third piece of advice--Kiss someone else. Your mother would kill me for saying this to you, but then again, she'd kill me for writing this letter to begin with. Everyone tells you to avoid rebounds. I say rebounds are like the drugs they give you in rehab so the withdrawal doesn't kill you.

...Not that I know anything about that.

Go somewhere and kiss someone. Yes, it should be someone you find attractive. I mean, don't just kiss ANYONE. But don't think about it too much either. Every romantic and/or physical interaction you have with someone else will help you get over...sigh...GRAY.

Kiss a guitarist. Kiss an artist. Kiss a chess player. Kiss a waiter. Kiss a Parisian exchange student.

Don't do more than kiss. You're still my niece, and I still want to believe you're chaste and pure as your mother was at your...

Anyway, just stick to kissing. Kissing can't hurt; mono's the worst you can get from it, and you can get that from sharing wine glasses, so why not get it the fun way?

Every kiss, every hug, every date--good or bad--is a step in a direction towards learning that THERE ARE OTHER MEN WHO ARE NOT NAMED AFTER BLAND, BORING COLORS!!!

So go take those steps. Remember, in basketball you WANT to get the rebound--depending on which team you're on. Why should love be any different?

My fourth piece of advice--spread rumors about yourself. No, not about him. About you. You're in high school. You're surrounded by young, impressionable minds. You might as well make use of them.

Spreading rumors about other people can get you in trouble, but spreading rumors about yourself can skyrocket you into the popularity stratosphere.

Break-ups are difficult. Often, they're nobody's fault. This is NOT one of those times.

If this boy left you and broke your heart, he is wrong, and you are right. Is this because you're my niece who spit up on me at least twice a day for the first month of her life?

You bet your life it is.

This break-up is a war, and in this family, we win our wars.

That being said, the best revenge is, in fact, living well.

Strike that--the best revenge is living will and making damn sure that the idiot who left you knows just how well you're living.

So spread a few exaggerated stories. Get your three best girlfriends--I'm hoping you have at least three, and one needs to be the Miranda, remember that--have them talk about you constantly--even if it's only for one lunch period.

Have them tell people you're dating a college guy.
Have them tell everyone you're moving to Los Angeles.
Have the Charlotte tell people that she pulled you off the subway tracks.

What? We live in Ohio? There aren't subways?

WHO CARES?

It's high school. It's four years of suspended logic!

Once word gets back to Beige Boy that you're a hot topic of conversation, he'll rethink letting you go. Nobody likes having their ex be the talk of the town unless the talk is about them making an inappropriate videotape...

By the way, if you do get the urge to spread a rumor about Gray, go for the inappropriate videotape. It's a classic, and it never fails.

Fifth piece of advice: Buy a great dress. It's impossible to be depressed when you look so hot even you would date you. Go to school in that dress and then start a rumor that you have an inoperable brain tumor. The sympathy card is the best way to make people hate your ex. Why do you think everyone sides with Jennifer Aniston?

Sixth piece of advice: Flee. People tell you not to run from your problems. People have never seen a Miami sunset. Do you have any idea how hard it is to look at a Miami sunset and convince yourself that you'd rather be somewhere else?

Believe me, Julie, there's nothing gray about it.

Final piece of advice: Watch your mother. Your mother may seem like a shrew with untamed hair--and yes, she can be--but she's also a woman with a lot of strength in her. She was the one who gave me advice when my heart got broken. She was the one who heard me crying three floors up.

(We had an attic when I was growing up.)

I remember when you were born, queen among nieces. You were a little masterpiece. Your mother, your father, even your grandmother, and I all kept looking at you then each other--as if to say:

Is she real? Is she really real?

Then I remember your mother putting you to her chest and I swear I saw a transference take place. I swear everything good about your mother come straight through her chest into you.

That means you have her iron will and her determination and her unbelievable kindness.

And it means you have one hell of a tough heart.

So it's probably not broken, Jules. It's probably just doing what any good woman of style does--hide for a bit after a scandal, and then make a grand reentrance into the world.

And have I got a grand reentrance for you.

Your mother and I already talked. You're coming to stay with me in London this summer. I'm going to have you all to myself for three months. By the time I send you home you're going to have a tattoo, a trendy haircut, credit card debt, and one hell of a fake accent.

And that heart of yours? It's going to be one big, bright color.

You're going to look like a box of crayons, queen among nieces. I promise.

Love, Love, Love, and Love Again
Uncle Matt

When Ronnie Comes to Town

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That Other Silence

-- I've never written about this before, but I think I have to --

"That Other Silence"

You remember wanting to fill it
Wanting to fill it with strong arguments
With laughter that knows no depth
With broken tirades and anecdotes
About vacation disasters
And family mishaps

You remember thinking it can't
It just can't be filled

You remember those car rides
Without the music on
Where you wind up home
And you sit there
Wondering how you got there
How you got home

Did you want to go home?
Maybe you did

Does it matter?
Maybe it doesn't matter

Maybe it's okay
Maybe you should just go inside

Maybe, maybe, maybe

You remember someone saying seek help
Seek help because you should
Because it's fine
Because nobody will judge you

But you're not
You're not fine
It's not fine
It's very much not fine

And you have to beat it on your own
In order to secure the confidence you need
That you are indeed one with your body
With your mind
With everything that goes on inside it
That it's not out of range somewhere
Waiting to run away from you

And it's so not sexy
They don't say that
But you remember that

You remember how desperately you wanted to be handsome
To be striking
To be sexy

Smart, you can be
You can be this and smart
Some people say
They're one and the same

But sexy you can't be
You can't be this and sexy
That's what you remember

Feeling wholly and totally unsexy
Because of your unsexy mind
Because sexy is light
It's air and nature

And your mind is heavy
It's so heavy
And it's not nature
It's not natural
It's not light
It's loaded down and dark
Like the dark on the highway
When there's no other cars
And you remember thinking
There used to be more light

There used to be light here
Or was it just the cars?

Do you need the cars
For the light?

And you're alone
And you're alone
And you're alone

You remember thinking
Nobody ever told you
That the voices you hear
Will be your own

That's why they're scary
Because they're your voice
They're not anybody else's

And they're convincing
The voices you hear
They have legal degrees
They're rational
They're so poised
And ready with their paperwork

They talk up all these awful ideas
Until you find yourself nodding
Nodding right along with them
Like you're starting to learn
The words to the song
They're singing

You remember feeling short of breath
Remember that?
Remember feeling like you have no breath?
Like you have no voice?
Like you have no impact?
Like it's pointless?

Like it's pointless?
Like it's--what's the point?
All the time
Constantly

Constantly

Constantly

You remember spending years
Building up all these fancy statues
Telling yourself they're nice
That they're an accomplishment
That they say you are somebody
That you are somebody

Then you take a hammer
And you smash them
And you smash them completely
Totally annihilate them

Did that do any good?
Did it?

No, no it didn't

But you couldn't look
You couldn't look at them
Anymore

You remember that other silence
You remember that slow, soft creep
Into a stone dead absence of sound

Not just a silence
But an other silence
A silence where sound's not there
But it ain't coming there anytime soon either

That kind of silence

A potentially permanent silence

That, you know that?
That's what I mean

Even the voice that sounds like yours
Won't go near that silence

It's like a lion looking at a t-rex
It knows when it's been beat
But it's been beat by something deadlier

The Jabberwocky Silence

Capital letters for every word

You remember sitting there
With that Other Silence
And waiting for the door to open
Waiting for someone to come in
And tell that Other Silence to go away

To make some noise
To bang some pots
To play some music
To break some glasses
To destroy the absence

Sitting there with you

But nobody does

You remember seeing a place
A place where you could put that silence
Where you could set it down
And leave it

Slowly backing away
Hoping it would stay there
Hoping it would like it there
Hoping it wouldn't move

You remember putting it there
And walking away
Knowing it was still there
That it was yours
That you were its owner

The owner of a black hole
Of a mythic city
Of an Other Silence

And you didn't look back
Did you?

Did you?

...Did you?

The Boys

I liked this one
Green eyes
Lady hands
The pianist

I like him
He seems like he was kind
Quiet, right?

How long was he for?

Two years
Wow
Two whole years
And you don't talk now?

Wow

Two years gone

Well, not gone
Well-spent
They were well-spent, weren't they?
Would you say?

Good

That's good

What happened there?

Just like that?

Wow

Kinda scary

Does he still play?

Oh

That's too bad

Did you live together?

I imagined you two
In the middle of the night
Sitting at the piano
Playing and singing
And being tender

That's what I think of
When I look at him

He was there when you quit drinking, right?

And he stayed that whole time?

Wow

That's nice
That's really nice

This one--Mr. Charm

Look at how much attention he's paying
To his body

Everything's in a specific place

His left bicep is front and center
His tiny ears are hidden by hair
His glasses are off

He's very focused

He was the one you were with
When your Mom got sick, right?

Did he bail?

Wow

I would have thought
He'd have bailed

Guess you can be wrong...

So why did he leave?

.....

You left?

Wow

I never--

Why?

Why did you leave?

Yeah

Just happens, I guess

This one--Surfer Guy

Well, he looks like a surfer
Even if he didn't surf

What was he like?

I picture him being rad
You know, people don't say rad anymore
But he looks so...rad

A C.P.A?

Really?

Did he just surf on the--

Ohhh, it was his first time

How did he do?

That poorly?

Wow

And he looks like--

Wow

So how did that one...you know?

Moved to Alberta?

People move to Alberta?

Was it business?

He just felt like moving to Alberta?

Okay

That's...

Okay

He was the one you went to Africa with, right?

That must have been cool
That must have been really cool

I like looking at them

Because they came first
Because they were here before me
Because they must have left a mark, right?

In some ways
It's like I'm dating them

Because people leave such strong impressions
Most of the time

Some of them I like
Some, I don't

But I like you

I do like you

I wonder if I'd have preferred to come first

I would if I could have gone through all that stuff with you
If I could have been there first

Maybe

Maybe I could have

Well...

Just well

Don't Blame Me for All Your Crazy

Don't blame me for all your crazy
I didn't crush up eight unicorns
And pour them into your brain

I didn't whisper in your ear
While you were sleeping
Telling you that little dogs
Were hopping around in the closet

I didn't make you see things
I didn't make you angry for no reason
I didn't smear tomato paste on the kitchen counter
And call it decoupage

So don't be blaming me
For all your crazy

You came with it
Like a Barbie comes with a clutch
And yes, I should have sent you back to the toy store
But I just loved how shiny your hair was

Now I know that the shiny
Is the crazy
Dripping out of the follicles

Don't tell me you were fiiiiiiine
When you met me
Because I didn't drop you into crazy

It's not something you get locked into
Like a straight jacket
Although I think that might be a fashion choice
You should heavily consider

You need to buy a mirror
Look at it
Look in it
Look and look and look

Because that crazy?

That's your crazy
You did that all on your own

You should give yourself a gold star
Because you are gold star crazy

You're the best crazy I've ever seen

But don't say it's me
Don't blame it on me

That crazy is all yours, baby
All of it
Yours

With a Naked Eye

Damage is done
It's a super deluxe
Got your kicks in the sheds
And your press on the flat top
Your nails are dry
Time to try to get your eyes

You got it circumstantial
You got it paradoxical
It's almost comical
You got your naked eye

Though, don't you?
Though
Though, don't you?
Hey
Don't you?

Get it with a naked eye

Clear the conscience from your view
Navigate your malls
Wipe off your insecticide
And ball your way to better halls
Inside the cellular cell phone calls
And all the blind men see

With a naked eye
With a naked eye

You can practice being perfect
You can traipse into the mesh
You can mess around with drugs and sex
And body contact naked men
And fondle all the freaks
Inside your very own
Circus tent

With a naked eye
With a naked eye
With a naked eye

Your strings need tuning
And you're dumb
Your zoom lens broke
But you're numb
You're so numb
And your number's up

Go get your basket
Your personal handbag
Your mind's in your eyes
And your eyes are defiled

Caught you looking, boy

Caught you looking at me
With a naked eye

With a naked
Eye

You Can Have the Past

You can have the past
I'm taking the next seven days
I'm taking next December
I'm taking the next two decades
It's all coming with me

But you can have the memories
You can have what you believe
Were the good times

You can pick 'em apart
And dance on 'em
And laugh at 'em
And cuddle up with 'em
On a lonely Friday night

I'm going out and finding next week
I'm going to find it
And grind up on it
And make it buy me dinner

I'm going to eat up every month
Every month that I would have let go by
Without even a wave
When I was drowning time with you

I'm going to find a pavement
With rain still wet on it
And see if I can shine my shoes
On my walk home

But everything else?
Everything here?

You can have it

You can take the past
The next part's coming
With me

Play With or Without You

I can kiss this girl
I can take her face in my hand
And see her eyes slyly climb
Up to my fingertips

I can see light
I can find it in her hair
Even as dark
As it is

I can find it in her
I can find it in her breath
In the way she gives me her wrist
To lightly raise
Up to my cheek

I can praise her in this unholy temple
Where the bad men come to pray
Where they feast on the trinkets she gives them
To last until she finally gives in
And gives herself away

Play Without or Without You

Make me a good man
Make me a daring young man
Who scales the fears he can't see the tops of
But knows she's up there somewhere
Waiting for him

Put me in her heart
Put me there so deep
So solid in there
That she can't take me out

Let me slow dance with her
Underneath the streetlight
Outside her house

Let a fog envelop us
And carry us back to noir
Back to when we had a mystery to solve
And a carriage to ride off in

I want to her to destroy me
I want to be tampered with
I want to be the trail she left behind her
On her way to the next day

Play With or Without You

Can you play it
Can you play it just right?

Just right

All We've Got Are Lies

All we've got are crackerjacks
All we've got are poker chips
All we've got are unstuffed pillows
All we've got are lies

All we do is sulk
All we do is sit and ruminate
All we do is think too much
All we do is touch and go
All we do is lie

All the walls are plastered grey
All the floors are covered in old clothes
All the ceiling tiles are falling down
All the sinks are filling up
Filling up with lies

All the books have one word titles
All the DVD cases are empty
All the coffee tables have broken legs
All the cupboards are bare
All the closets are closing in
All the rooms are extra rooms
All the space is lies

All the remarks are snide
All the laughter is forced
All the tears are cliches
All the fights are scripted
All the words are lies

The people here
The past remainder
The future temperature
The warmth and the wavelength
The territory trampled on

To get to it
To get to it
To get to it

All we've got are lies

Mrs. Brugel's Pilgrims

Everybody! Look at Mrs. Brugel!

Quiet woodchuck! Look at my hand! It's a woodchuck! And woodchucks are quiet!

You all look SOOO fantastic in the outfits my new life partner made for you! Nina is such a devil on the sewing machine--and on the recliner--HAHAHA!

I am so thrilled that after years of the 5th grade presenting the Thanksgiving Pageant (in what can only be called a creative vacuum in which Mr. Barton added his anti-feminist slant to the story of our country's founding by having all the women pilgrims relegated to standing behind the men shucking corn) the 3rd Graders will FINALLY get to take a stab at this juicy theatrical turkey!

Sidenote, I want you all to finish your Get Well cards for Mr. Barton by tomorrow. I don't know who gave him that undercooked chicken in the teachers' lounge, but I'm sure they're very VERY sorry for what they did.

MOVING ON!

I want you children to know that this will not be your typical Thanksgiving Pageant. It will strive for a level of accuracy that has never been seen on an elementary school stage.

Now, I realize that none of you are ACTUAL Native Americans, which is why I've asked some of you to have your parents take you tanning so that your skin can achieve a more sun-beaten look. Some of you did what I asked, and some of you didn't. All I have to say is that I'm glad I didn't stop by the dollar store last night, after shopping at Joe's Liquor's, just in case I ran out of gold stars, as that will CLEARLY not be the case.

It's very important that those of you playing the pilgrims DON'T speak to those playing the Native Americans. I want to feel the tension between the two groups. That way, when we get to the syphilis spreading scene, the betrayal will be that much more deep.

Have you ever been betrayed children? It's something that can't be described. It's as if the Native Americans fell madly in love with the pilgrims only to come home one day and find them in bed with the contractor you hired to enlarge the office so that the pilgrims COULD HAVE BUILT-IN BOOKSHELVES!

Girls, please listen to what I'm saying. You're pilgrim women. You give birth, peel potatoes, and build furniture ALL IN ONE DAY! Of course, that's before the Native American men steal you away and make you their concubines, but your death is all the more tragic because of how meaningless your lives were.

Think about that. Think about the lack of meaning. It'll sting when you do. That means you're acting.

Kids, I know this isn't what you think Thanksgiving is. I know you've been force-fed happy yams and images of Pocahontas licking apple sauce off of Goodie Jane's voluptuous...uh...where was I going with this?

OH! RIGHT!

You HAVE to change your mindframe, kids! The pilgrims betrayed the Native Americans, and that was WELL before they got to the cranberry sauce.

We have to present reality. Because reality is what this country was founded on. It was founded on backstabbing, lying, mass murder and REALITY!

And reality is something we can be grateful for.

So hike up your skirts, lady pilgrims--we're going to do the mass birthing scene, and this time, I want to see you feel it!

The Cupcake Files (Pt. 1)

-- Specially commissioned --

I once had an apartment on Crossway
Past Dalton and Dane
Around the corner from Chaplin Pizza
A walkable distance from downtown
If you found yourself drunk
And minus a ride home

Not the best neighborhood to walk through
But home all the same

This is where I met Cupcake

When I moved into 175 Crossway
Cupcake had already lived there for a few months
With a Mexican guy named Chavo
And this tattoo artist named Spaz

There were still unpacked boxes everywhere
And the living room smelled like cold cuts

Cupcake met me at the front door
Wearing a backwards baseball cap
And low-rise jeans

He was dumb
Really dumb
I could smell it on him

It was intoxicating

I was bringing in my last box
He didn't offer to help
He just smirked at me

'You the new second floor?'
'Yeah.'
'You'll be on top of me then.'

He smiled

This was as much as he knew about flirting

I dropped the box

'Pick it up.'
'Excuse me?'
'Pick it up and bring it upstairs.'
'Uh...'
'I'm going to take a shower.'

I walked past him
Making sure not to look back

When I got out of the shower
The box had been placed neatly
In my bedroom

Cupcake was laying on my bed

'So do I get a thank you?'
'Are you asking me if we're going to fuck?'

He blushed

I could tell he'd never heard a girl
Use the 'f' word as an actual verb

'We, uh, could...hold each other?'

I laughed

'The condoms are in one of these boxes. Find them. I'm going to go watch tv.'
'I have one in my wallet.'
'If you think we're using your 7th grade free-class-handout condom that probably has a Ninja Turtle on it, then clearly you've only been fucking prom queens in sleeping bags on the beach. Welcome to a Classic, baby.'

I walked out of the room
Hearing his stunned silence
Splash onto the floor

Then I heard the boxes
Being rapidly unpacked

Waiting for Barbara Eden

"I miss Albuquerque."
"You've said that."
"I really miss it."
"You say it all the time."
"I ache for it."
"It was...you know...not great."
"The people--"
"That's what I mean."
"The people weren't great."
"No."
"But the place itself."
"Yeah, I guess."
"I'd kill for Albuquerque."
"Take another pillow."

. . . . .

"I love it in here."
"So much fabric."
"I could nap."
"So nap."
"No! It's Friday."
"I don't feel tired at all."
"You can't nap on Friday."
"I feel so awake."
"Do you think she's with a guy?"
"Ask her when she comes."
"Maybe I will nap."
"So nap."
"Maybe I will."
"I'll wait."
"Let me know if she comes."
"I don't mind waiting alone."

. . . . .

"You used to look at me differently."
"Oh yeah?"
"Like I was cute."
"You are cute."
"Yeah."
"I don't look at you differently."
"You look like you're bored."
"I'm not bored."
"Okay."
"I mean I'm bored right now."
"Why?"
"Because we're waiting."
"We've been waiting."
"Exactly."
"We could--"
"What?"
"Never mind."
"No, what could we--"
"Are you kidding?"
"Oh."
"So...no?"
"Not in the mood."
"Okay."
"Just--she's coming. You know?"
"Yeah."
"Why start and then?"
"Never mind."

. . . . .

"I miss the pool."
"The pool and the bar."
"The bar?"
"We used to go."
"You and me?"
"No. Us."
"Ohhh, you mean your friends."
"Yeah."
"I never went."
"No, yeah, I forgot."
"You never invited me."
"Tricky Situation."
"Not really."
"That was the name of the bar--Tricky Situation."
"Weird."
"Amazing bar."
"I probably wouldn't have gone anyway."
"Take a pillow."

. . . . .

"Can you see what's going on outside?"
"Nothing, I bet."
"The windows are hard to see through."
"They're not windows."
"They're glass."
"Just because something's made of glass; it doesn't mean it's a window."
"I think I hear something."
"If you heard something it would be coming from the ceiling, not the glass."
"I hear it everywhere."
"It's probably people talking."
"It sounds louder."
"I don't hear it."
"It's deafening."
"I don't hear anything."

. . . . .

"Do you want to dance?"
"There's no music."
"We can dance anyway."
"Why would we do that?"
"Because we can. Because no one else is here."
"Huh."
"So...no?"
"No, I don't want to."
"Why didn't you just say that?"
"I was looking for a better answer."
"There's never a better answer. There's just the answer."
"I disagree."
"Fine."
"Take a pillow."

. . . . .

"I used to crave you."
"That's weird."
"I think you find honesty weird."
"I do. I do think it's weird."
"To be honest?"
"To just spout off whatever you're thinking."
"So better to just talk inside your own head all the time?"
"Not everyone is interested in everything."
"I am. I'm interested in everything."
"One day you'll learn something and you won't be so interested."
"Like what?"
"Something."
"Is that what happened to you?"
"Huh?"
"Did you find out something that made you not want to know anything?"
"Yeah, kinda."
"What was it?"
"It wasn't really something I learned. It was just something that happened."
"Okay."
"Somebody was cruel to me."
"Oh."
"It was the first time."
"The--"
"The first time someone is cruel to you it changes you. It changes who you're going to be. It just...it changes you."
"Oh. So that's what happened?"
"It was a long time ago. It's like it never even happened anymore. That's the hard part. That it feels like I was always this way. Like it's how I was made."
"Oh."

. . . . .

"Do you think she's coming?"
"She has to eventually."
"Yeah."
"So we'll wait."
"Maybe she'll stay a long time."
"We'll see."
"I feel like each time she goes away; it's for longer. And every time she comes back--"
"Yeah, I know."
"I feel like I'm anticipating her leaving before she even comes back."
"Just have the moment."
"I can't."
"Just have it."
"I can't."
"Just. Be in the present."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because the future's weighing down on it. It's bruising it. That's why."
"Take a pillow."

. . . . .

"I miss Albuquerque."
"I know."
"Do you?"
"I can't tell."
"What do you mean?"
"I miss so much that it's hard to see what's sitting in the spots where the missing isn't and what's a part of the missing and what's not and what's part of it and what's not and what's there and what's not there and things move and how do you know anything?"
"I know what's in those spots."
"What spots?"
"The spots in the missing."
"Albuquerque, right?"
"And you. Sometimes. Sometimes you're in those spots."
"But I can move. I can move out of those spots."
"Yeah, I guess you can."

. . . . .

"Is she coming?"
"Why are you asking me that?"
"Because."
"Because?"
"Because I think you know."
"I think you know too."
"So say it."
"You say it first."
"What difference does it make?"
"I don't know. What difference does it make?"
"Is she?"
"I don't know."
"You said--"
"I said 'I think you know.'"
"But--"
"That's all I said!"
"IS SHE COMING?"
"YOU ALREADY KNOW!"
"SO SAY IT!"
"ENOUGH!"

..."Enough"

A Beautiful Gutter

I'm going to get out of here
And wind up in the gutter
But let me tell you something
It's going to be a beautiful gutter

I'm going to crash land
Into a sewer pit
But it'll be a sewer pit
So far from you
It'll look blue to me

I'm going to die in a river ravine
With the clean washed out of me
By tears destroyed
By some boy
Whose number I deleted it

And it's going to be soft
It's going to be desert hot
It's going to be crass
It's going to be nasty there
But it's going to be someplace
Better than here

It's going to be a nightmare
Where I stare into space
And place myself back in your arms
Knowing those arms are harmful
To human skin

And I begin to wonder
Why I bothered curling up
Against an ice patch
Like the batch of bullshit
You tried laying on me

I don't know where I'll be in two years
But I won't be here

Isn't that the best sentence
In the whole damn world?

'I won't be here'

I'm going to be somewhere
And nowhere
And be a nobody
In a no place kinda place
And it's going to be great

It'll be a gutter
But kid, it'll be a beautiful gutter

I See You Picked An Adjective

I see you picked an adjective

I see you decided on 'vulnerable'
I'm a 'vulnerable' character
Lots and lots of 'vulnerable'

I see you've decided
To look down a lot
And talk soft
And attempt crying

Granted, you failed
I mean, granted
You failed

But you chose
You made a clear choice
Bravo for that

I mean, there wasn't a verb
Anywhere in what you did
You didn't present a single action
For the entire two hours
You were onstage

But you were very adjective-y
I could tell right away
That you were 'vulnerable'
That was VERY clear

And about a minute into figuring out
That you were 'vulnerable'
I was so excited to see what this 'vulnerable' character
Was going to do

And then you just kept playing 'vulnerable'
And then I got bored
And then I zoned out
And when I zoned back in

Still 'vulnerable'

But good for you
Good for you for picking
An adjective
And committing to it

Who knows?

Maybe next time you'll actually decide
To do more

Wouldn't that be something?

The Villain's Thanksgiving

Okay, everybody gather round

Grandpa, if you could stop torturing that double agent
Until after dinner
I would really appreciate it

This is a day of appreciation
And I think we should all go around the table
And say what we're thankful for this year

I'll start...

...Just as soon as Brother Villain
Stops giggling
Over my outfit

Apparently some of us
Are trusting enough
To BELIEVE our brother
When he tells us
That this year
We're all supposed to dress up
Like Thanksgiving food
To make the event more festive

I should remind him
That if he thinks
I won't behead a family member
While wearing a yam costume
Then he's sorely mistaken

Now, onto the gratitude

I would like to give thanks
For my new swivel chair
Which offers both clockwise
And counterclockwise swiveling

I would also like to give thanks
For my new death gun
Which, although it still fails to actually cause death,
Does manage to render someone unconscious
Long enough for you to kick 'em a few times
Before they wake up and engage you in karate
With which you are totally unfamiliar
Because your mother made you take piano lessons
Instead of SOMETHING USEFUL!

But of course
We don't want to speak ill of the dead
Especially those we strangled
With our own hands
When they refused to die of old age
Like normal people

. . . . .

Annnnnnyway

I'd like to give thanks to little Beth Ann
My adorable niece
Who showed me how to twitter

I hit my 800th post today

'Thanksgiving with the fam fam. Then assassinating a PM in the AM! Yay XOXO!'

I'd like to give thanks that my book of poetry--

'Blood-Thirsty Warmonger: Poems About Self"

--Is finally being published
After a rather testy meeting at Knopf
Which ended with bloodshed
And understanding

Finally, I'd like to give thanks
For all of you
For sticking by me
Even after I tried to kill you
Over and over and over
And over and over
And over again

May I have more success next year
So that I don't have to make as much stuffing
As I did this year

Now, let's eat!

Christina Marks Doesn't Mind

Do you remember the last time
Someone was mad at you?

Of course you do

Everybody would remember that

I don't

Isn't that strange?

I couldn't tell you
The last time someone
Actually showed anger towards me

At least on an individual level

On a larger level
A surreal level of anger
That crazy otherworldly anger
Where you see yourself
On the cover of US Weekly
Being called a whore
By someone you used to date...

Well, I get that more often

But that I can handle
Because it's so...
It's so not near me
You know?

It's so far away
It might as well be someone else

Celebrity reporters and--
What do you call them?
Pundits?

Talking about me

Having the late night comics
Cracking jokes about me

I mean, those things can be hurtful
It's not easy to hurt me
But I can be hurt
I have been hurt

But as far as someone being mad...

I can't remember the last time
Someone didn't return one of my phone calls

I can't remember the last time
Someone yelled at me

I can't remember the last time
Someone actually spoke an unflattering adjective
In my presence
In reference to me

Isn't that strange?

A lot of being a movie star
Is stuff you can imagine

The movies, for the most part
Get it right

It's glamorous
It's annoying
It's amazing
It's isolating

Blah, blah, blah

The thing they don't tell you
Is that people
Stop being mad at you

Because people
Because everybody
Wants something from you

I mean, basically
Isn't that the reason
That people get mad at you in the first place?

It's because they wanted something from you
And you didn't give them what they wanted
Or because they've determined
That you can never give them what they want
So why bother being nice to you anymore?

That's never the case with me

I have things people want

I have money
I have attention
I have power

And as far as I can tell
Though my star has taken a hit recently
Due to an unfortunate incident
Involving kissing another girl
And doing so while topless--

Well, as far as I can tell,
I'll still have all those things
For at least a few more years

So nobody gets mad

So then what happens?

I try to make people mad

I say mean things
I act like a bitch
I challenge people's kindness

Just to see
Just to see if I can get them to say--

'To Hell with it! I don't care who she is! She can't be that way!'

But nobody does

And it makes me think of my mom
My mom was a big yeller
Big fan of yelling
And she would say--

'I yell because I love you! Because I care!'

And all I can think
When nobody gets mad
When they're basically refusing
To get mad

Is that they don't care about me
They probably ARE mad
But they won't say anything
Because they want me to like them

Which is so messed up
Because I like people who've gotten mad at me
I mean, I don't really like my mother
But I like other people who've gotten mad at me
I don't cut people off for that

And I really wouldn't mind
If they decided to yell at me
Or whatever

I really wouldn't mind
At all